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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27360262">The Reaver Gambit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothamOracle/pseuds/GothamOracle'>GothamOracle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Character, Dark Poe Dameron, F/M, First Order Poe Dameron, Force Dyad (Star Wars), Identity Issues, Kidnapping, Stolen Child</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:46:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,661</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27360262</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothamOracle/pseuds/GothamOracle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He's the deadliest TIE pilot in the fleet with more confirmed kills than any other, determined to bring the Resistance down for the First Order. But behind the helmet, beyond the legend, there is a man. He has no name, just a call sign. He is the Reaver.</p><p>Dark/FO!Poe Dameron AU, eventual Damerey.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Poe Dameron/Rey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Reaver Gambit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have had this fic stirring in the back of my head for some time. It was inspired by a piece of artwork I saw by clakearts on tumblr (I will put the link below). I'm expecting this to be a darker story than I usually write. There will be elements of kidnapping and identity issues. Any other necessary warnings will be added as we go. </p><p>A great big thank you to damerey_knows, my fantastic beta reader, as well as the member of the Damerey Discord who have been hearing me talk about this idea for months. </p><p>I hope you enjoy.</p><p>(https://clakearts.tumblr.com/post/190343681935/some-say-hes-a-myth-no-tie-pilot-survives)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the early summer sun, Shara Bey was a sight to behold. Laughing, playing with their son, her smile radiated the same light it always carried, even in the darkest days of the war. Five years out, after all the battles, the strife, the moments when each were certain they wouldn’t be getting back to one another, some days Kes Dameron worried that if he blinked the scene would disappear. But it didn’t. The war was over. This was what they’d fought for: The chance to settle, to be, to make something in a galaxy free from the corrupting influence of the Empire.<br/>
<br/>
Yavin 4 hadn’t been the sort of place he’d dreamed of as a child, but now as a man he’d wanted peace, they both had. L'ulo had called them crazy when he and Shara decided to stay. Of all the places they could have chosen, the former Rebellion moon base seemed more a reminder than a new start. But when Shara Bey set her mind to something, anyone would be hard-pressed to change it. Neither he nor Shara had seen themselves as farmers. They were soldiers, tired, weary and wanting something simpler. But this place had called to them, the land had called to them and once the tree was planted that had been the end of it.<br/>
<br/>
Tearing his eyes away, Kes loaded a crate of melons onto a waiting customer’s speeder. The market was bustling. On a morning like this, when the humidity stuck to him like a second skin, it was easy to tell who was a local and who was passing through. Recognizing clues pointing to a coming rainstorm, the locals rushed from stand to stand desperate to finish their purchasing before the oncoming gale inevitably hit. The cluelessness of the rest was forever amusing, but a storm on-moon meant a washout. As much as he’d wanted to have a full market day, soon enough those who were left would scatter for cover. The last thing Kes wanted was to be on the road when the rain started.<br/>
<br/>
Pausing to take water from the reclamation canister, Kes looked back to his wife. Her attention was taken whispering something to their eager and mischievous looking son. The two were so alike in looks, temperament, stubbornness. Poe was only seven but the Bey family traits had made themselves known early in his life. Shara liked to point out the ways their son was like her husband, but Kes was content seeing her alone. He was an old war dog, a Pathfinder, the boy didn’t need to pick up his father’s stoic and serious nature. He much preferred to see his son like his mother: Seeing the possibility of the stars instead of the realities of the ground.<br/>
<br/>
If she noticed his eyes on her, Shara would have scolded him. She would have accused him of worrying too much, but there was no such thing. She may have sworn she was feeling better, insisted that the pain was manageable today, but after a year of treatments Kes knew there was a difference between ‘manageable’ and ‘good’.  He’d suggested she stay home to rest and had received an all-too familiar furrow of annoyance in her brow. There had been no argument after that.<br/>
<br/>
The Galaxy was not a just place. If it were, if there were a Maker listening, they would not have afflicted Shara Bey with this. A year into treatments, they both knew she was getting worse, not better. Kes Dameron was not a man to sit by when there was a threat, but this wasn’t one that could be shot with a blaster or stabbed with a vibroblade. This wasn’t a battle he could fight with her, for her. He could only watch as the illness and treatments left her weak, pained and sometimes dazed. The doctors tried to be positive, but potential off-world treatment options had dwindled, leaving both husband and wife with very real questions: What next? How much time did she have? What would they do? What <em> could </em> they do?<br/>
<br/>
She deserved the world. More than the world. Some nights, Kes would stay up watching her sleep, not ready to face a world without her in it, but both knew. Seeing her now, eyes wide and happy as Poe ran off with a friend, he wished for her sake the rain would hold off a bit longer.<br/>
<br/>
Turning to the stand, Kes started taking inventory of what they’d sold and what had to come back. He was about to start moving crates when he felt arms wrap around his waist.<br/>
<br/>
“Already?” Shara sounded disappointed. He’d expected it, but it caused a weight on his heart nonetheless.<br/>
<br/>
“You know better than anyone what we’re in for,” he replied, a knowing smile pulling at his lips. He turned, pulling her closer and leaning his chin atop her head. The frizziness of her hair was further evidence of the moon’s intentions.<br/>
<br/>
“A little rain never hurt anyone,” she countered.<br/>
<br/>
Pulling back, Kes looked down at his wife, his face changing to concern.<br/>
<br/>
“Shar-”<br/>
<br/>
“I know,” she cut him off. “But I’m not made of glass. A little rain won’t kill me.”<br/>
<br/>
Both knew on Yavin 4 it was never a little rain, but that wasn’t the point. Kes’ worry and Shara’s determination always butted heads. Neither wanted to fight, but her wish to be home instead of in the medical center, her resistance to resting… Kes knew she wanted to be as active as she could for as long as she could, but he just wanted her to be and to continue to be, for herself, for him, for Poe.<br/>
<br/>
Kes exhaled. The sky would open shortly and he wanted to be anywhere but in transit when it started. Starting an argument over this would do neither of them good.<br/>
<br/>
“Counter offer,” he started. “Quiet night in. Home cooked meal. And you can choose the holo.”<br/>
<br/>
“Even if it’s the one you hate?”<br/>
<br/>
Quietly, Kes winced. He should have expected this. In its own way that holo was a punishment, but if it made her happy… “Even that one,” he promised.<br/>
<br/>
A quick nod told him he was forgiven and he leaned down for a kiss before moving to pack the speeder. It would take an hour to have it ready, until then they had time for more sales. He’d pack the melons last.<br/>
<br/>
While Kes’s eyes were on the task in front of him, his ears focused on the sounds of the marketplace: The conversations, rustlings, arguments. Years at war had left him with a soldier’s ear, picking up the smallest of changes. Even now, after the nightmares had faded, the habit stuck. It set him at ease knowing what happened around him, knowing that things in this peaceful place were safe, that they were safe. Most market days this was the case. Nothing happened on Yavin.<br/>
<br/>
A barrage of blaster fire cut through the ambient sound of people and the jungle. Screams erupted from the other end of the marketplace. Kes and several other soldiers-turned-farmers turned to see people running like their lives depended on it. The crush of bodies made it impossible to tell what had happened, but Kes’s eyes met Shara’s as one thought rushed through his mind: Poe.<br/>
<br/>
It was like watching a formation. In unison, Kes and the other veterans rushed into the fray of terrified people, years of training kicking in. Kes’ hand instantly went for his blaster, but it wasn’t there. The holster and firearm were hidden at the farm where Poe wouldn’t find them. Improvisation-under-fire had thankfully been a specialty of the Pathfinders and Kes grabbed the first item he came across: a metal beam from one of the now-abandoned stands.<br/>
<br/>
He shouted his son’s name, but was drowned out by the rising cacophony of screams that answered another round of blaster fire. It wasn’t far but the river of people made it impossible to see what was happening or why.<br/>
<br/>
The high pitched scream of a child pierced the air. Kes rushed towards it and found himself face to face with a black-suited soldier with a child no more than six thrown over his shoulder. The soldier wore no helmet and bore no insignia upon his uniform. The word ‘mercenary’ flashed through Kes’s mind, but his attention was split as the child tried desperately to get away. The mercenary held firm, growling something that had the child all but crying in fear.<br/>
<br/>
Aiming so as not to harm the child, Kes swung the metal beam in his hands. The bludgeon hit the merc’s back with an angry crack and the man fell forward from the force. The child dropped from the soldier’s grip and dashed away as fast as he could, crying for his mother. The mercenary turned, eyes angry, and tried to pull his blaster but Kes swung again, this time aiming for the head. The opponent tried to get his arm up to block but missed, falling to the ground in a ball, holding his head in pain.<br/>
<br/>
There was no time for an interrogation. Kes left the man on the ground, taking his blaster. Ducking between the oncoming bodies, he followed the sounds of kids’ screams. His mind putting pieces together as he saw two of his fellow vets take down more mercs, each with their arms full.<br/>
<br/>
Kids. They were grabbing kids. Market day was safe, people brought their families, children were given free rein to play and have fun while business was conducted. They must have known this; the market schedule was easy enough to obtain, it wasn’t a secret. The blaster fire had either been unintentional or a way of sowing panic, a smokescreen so no one would recognize the kidnapping until it was too late! But why? It made no sense. Yavin was full of farmers and traders. They were rich in agriculture but nothing else; the populous didn’t have anything to offer. Ransom couldn’t be the motive.<br/>
<br/>
Kes surged forward, howling his son’s name against the cacophony of the crowd: Screams of terror, names of those who had suddenly gone missing and the heartbreaking screeches of children begging for their parents. He tried breaking it down, numbers would help: How many of the local farmers had come today? How many of them had children? How many targets had there been today? How many mercenaries were hiding in the chaos? There would be more mercs than targets. Operations like this required chaos and confusion and there would be one person at the top orchestrating all of it!<br/>
<br/>
For a half second there was a clear line down the market and he could see a ship at the other end. It was small, a cargo ship, the same type that came in and out of the port every day. The ship blending in so well gave further credence that this had been a planned op. Black-suited mercenaries were dragging squirming or unconscious children towards it. They wouldn’t get away with this. He wasn’t going to let them.<br/>
<br/>
A high pitched whistle echoed from his lips above the crowd, a signal, an old trick from the war. The others who had jumped into action would follow.<br/>
<br/>
Another round of blaster fire went off, this time from all around them. The mercs might be succeeding with their distraction, but they had just put a target on their backs. Kes drew the blaster, and running toward the origination point, shot three in the torso, neck and legs. They never saw him coming.<br/>
<br/>
“POE!” Kes tried again. His son was a fighter like his mother, he would be trying tooth and nail to get away. If he could hear his father, know that he was trying to get to him…<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly Kes thought he could hear his son’s voice among the chaos. Frantic, he pushed through the sea of fleeing people. He could see more and more of the mercenaries trying to drag their hostages forward. The conscious kids were resisting, fighting as hard as they could to get out of their captor’s grasps, but to no avail. Kes fired the blaster again, aiming for the legs. He got two of them but the others rushed ahead.<br/>
<br/>
Kes listened hard but couldn’t hear his son’s voice anymore. He kept moving, hoping that getting to the ship would be enough, that Poe would be there, that it wouldn’t be too late. He was almost at the craft when he saw it.<br/>
<br/>
Up ahead, one of the mercenaries was holding a child - an unmoving boy with dark curly hair. The rest of the child was blocked by the soldier’s body as he ran, but that look was all Kes needed. His blaster was in his hands. He let the shots fire aiming for the legs, but the merc was faster and dodged out of the way. Kes put on a burst of speed, feeling it in his legs and his chest. He just needed a little more, needed to keep going. He let another blaster shot go and it hit the man in the leg, sending him sprawling against the moist dirt below.<br/>
<br/>
Kes grabbed the man’s shoulder, pulling him up to face him. For a moment the merc looked surprised, but the look faded as Kes punched him across the jaw, anger radiating through his fists. He held up the blaster, eyes cold and deadly. He could see the defiance and unease from the man in his grasp, but in a moment of clarity he hit the man in the head with the butt of the blaster, knocking him out cold. Kes wasn’t going to kill anyone in front of his son.<br/>
<br/>
The next instant, Kes felt intense pain shoot down his spine. He dropped the blaster, falling to his knees, unable to stand. He’d been shot. Kes crawled closer to Poe, who was lying on the ground. Kes expected the mercenaries to try retaking him, but the merc who shot him dashed past him for the ship.<br/>
<br/>
All around them the denizens of the market who hadn’t gotten away were scattered on the ground, injured, unconscious or worse. Kes tried to move, tried to get up, but his legs wouldn’t move. Up ahead he could hear the blaster fire of the other veterans attempting to bring down the ship. But it was taking off.<br/>
<br/>
“Poe.” Kes’s breath was heavy as he shook the boy’s shoulder, trying to get him to wake up. He couldn’t move and was staring at his son’s back. The boy was breathing, he was alive, likely hit or injected with something to make him easier to take. “ <em> Poe.” </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em><br/>
</em> His mind raced trying to find answers. Why had they come here and kidnapped children? It was broad daylight, they’d taken no precautions. The move had been blatant, a power play, but there were no power players left. The Empire was gone. They’d seen to it.<br/>
<br/>
The boy let out a mumble and Kes felt his heart unclench for the first time since the blaster fire had started. But it was short lived. The moment the boy sat up, his heart sank.<br/>
<br/>
This wasn’t his son. It was Elia, the neighbor boy, Poe’s friend, the one he’d had run off to play with earlier.<br/>
<br/>
Elia looked up at Kes, confused, looking around. “Wha- what happened? Where’s my dad?” the boy asked, shaken.<br/>
<br/>
But Kes couldn’t speak. He was frozen. He couldn’t move but the numbness he felt wasn’t from the blaster shot. His eyes rose, catching the ship as it got smaller, leaving Yavin 4 behind.<br/>
<br/>
No. It couldn’t end like this. It couldn’t! Looking at the face of his son’s friend, the weathered veteran felt the pain set in like a million swords to the soul. He could barely breathe. His chest tightening as he pictured his son’s face only an hour before. <br/>
<br/>
He was gone.<br/>
<br/>
Their son was gone.</p>
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